


Whatever Is Glittering in the Gutter

by InsertSthMeaningful



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Charles You Slut, Corsetry, Dom/sub Undertones, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Erik You Slut, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertSthMeaningful/pseuds/InsertSthMeaningful
Summary: While hosting one of his infamous dinner parties, Charles discovers that his protégé Erik Lehnsherr has been making arrangements for the night to follow.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 17
Kudos: 34





	Whatever Is Glittering in the Gutter

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else feel the need for Erik in a corset? No? Only me? Alright then.
> 
> Title from Stuart Kestenbaum's [Holding the Light](https://poets.org/poem/holding-light).

They had not yet made it past the arrival of the last dinner guest when Erik by Charles’ side excused himself and slipped away into the corridor. Charles watched him go with quizzical eyes, left to do everyone’s introductions on his own.

Emma Frost sidled up to him, her amusement battering against his thoughts. The eccentric merchant heiress was wearing a sumptuous dinner dress, white as snow, with a low neck that exposed rather more of her décolleté than would have been usually appropriate, and a corset beneath which pinched her waist to delicate perfection. A stray lock of her pale hair had escaped her fashionable hairdo, and she reached up to tuck it back in place as she said, “Why, it almost looks as though your boy is getting cold feet.”

Charles sighed. The fingers of his right hand began to beat a staccato against the polished wooden armrest of his wheelchair – a nervous tick he had never quite got rid of.

“I really can’t fathom what the matter is with him today,” he answered in a low tone. “He’s been skittish all afternoon already, and yet everything is as in order as it can possibly be. The maids are briefed, the food is well on its way down in the kitchens, and he doesn’t even have any of my stray teacups or papers to hunt down anymore.” Giving in to the temptation of facing Emma directly, Charles twisted around in his wheeled chair. The fabric of his deep blue dinner jacket rustled gently. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you now?”

She gave him her best innocent pout. “The only thing that I know is that I know nothing.”

Breathing out slowly, Charles took the leisure of shooting her a long, piercing look. Then, strengthening his voice with certainty, he said, “You’re lying. You _do_ know something.” He frowned, ruffling back through the events of the week for a clue. On Tuesday, he stopped. “Did he behave well upon his visit to your manor?”

Emma stared at him in what could easily have been mistaken for affront but was really just thinly veiled amusement.

“It is true that he can be just a bit abrasive at times – verily, a rough diamond in its most natural form – but otherwise he’s utterly charming, and the girls were delighted to have him over. I’m sure that given time, you’ll polish him up just right, Charles dear.” With a graceful tilt of her head, she smiled at one of the Summers brothers across the room. Her voice turned inwards. _And then you’ll have to be mindful of not letting anyone else snatch that gem right from under your nose._

With difficulty, Charles held back a triumphant snort. He hummed noncommittally instead. “Indeed. And I’m sure you won’t mind assisting me in that matter.”

“Why, it would be my shame to refuse.”

This time around, Charles couldn’t keep from preening just a tad bit. Erik was special, extraordinary, _marvellous_ even, and it was only right that people should take notice. He was Charles’ most outstanding stroke of luck.

The corners of Emma’s otherwise so tightly controlled lips hitched upwards. “Well now, Xavier, I do know where your sympathies lie. But shouldn’t you be going after your – hum, for decorum’s sake let’s call him your _protégé_ – shouldn’t you be going after him to see what is upsetting him so?”

Charles glanced at the grandfather clock across the hall. Still fifteen minutes until the last guests were expected in.

“Of course,” he breathed, taking the opening she provided so gallantly. “You won’t mind holding them off for me? Raven is usually the woman for the job, but seeing as she is on honeymoon with Irene…”

“Go. Find him.” Gracefully tilting her hips, Emma let her eyes wander across the room until they were resting on the grand piano by the window and a petite, dark woman with dragonfly wings experimentally pressing a few keys. “In the meantime, I will assist that lovely lady over there and see to it that we create a distraction.”

Ere Charles could mutter his thanks, she had set off for the girl, attracting stares from all over the room as she went.

Charles grinned, a small voice at the back of his head wondering if Angel would get lucky tonight. He didn’t doubt it.

Then, he set his wheels in motion and quietly slipped past the maid holding the door open for him and out onto the corridor.

The Xavier mansion lay in bustling solitude. Though all was still and dark in the hallway, with the moon peeking in through the cracks in the curtains which were drawn in front of the big window by the staircase, the silence was alive. From the ground floor, from the kitchens, wafted the faint smell of steaming pots and burning coal, and hushed laughter drifted through the door which had just fallen shut behind Charles. In the driveway, coachmen’s teeth chattered, interspersed with the crunching of gravel beneath sleeping hooves.

And just as Charles started down the polished floor of the corridor, Emma’s crystal-clear song voice started up behind his back, followed closely by enthralled _Oohs_ and _Aahs._

Undeterred, Charles made a beeline for his study only a few doors further on. Behind them, the darkness of the room was illuminated by one single burning mind.

Erik didn’t turn when Charles manoeuvred past the doorway and into the study, struggling quite a while with the heavy oak door until it swung open widely, as though held by magic. Charles’ _protégé_ just kept looking out the window at the moon-silvern lawn below.

Charles, too, did look. But less at the beauty of what lay beyond the glass than at the beauty which lay in front.

“Here you are,” he said after a moment too long, which was spent staring at his protégé’s admirable backside, in particular at the slim, arching silhouette of his waist as he leaned up against the windowsill. Erik had his rich purple jacket off and his white vest unbuttoned, so that its sides hung about him like the broken wings of an angel.

Still not turning, Erik’s breath fogged up the glass as he spoke.

“And here _you_ are. I thought you’d never come.”

Charles went to wheel up behind him. “Why, if you wanted to shorten your waiting time you should’ve told me to join you.” His hand came up to grace Erik’s on the windowsill before he could stop himself. “Will you tell me what is the matter, love?”

Now, so close that he could touch, he was able to admire his work of many months. Once frail as a young birch tree, Erik was starting to fill out his clothes just right, and his hands were beginning to soften. They were no more marred with all the little creases and cuts which life in the shadows entailed. Charles longed to take them in his and suckle at the tips of Erik’s fingers, lavish the skin of his gossamer-soft palms with kisses until the man came undone, reduced to begging, pleading on his knees in front of Charles’ chair.

When Charles had picked him up from the streets and taken him in, he had been wild, feral – a hunter which never would have succumbed to the joys of the flesh. A predator in an urban landscape where humans walked free despite the blood on their hands. These days, however, the morning sun found Erik more and more often between Charles’ sheets than on the prowl.

And still, Charles knew that he may have accustomed Erik to himself, but that the man was not any less deadly for it.

At last, Erik turned, the movement oddly stiff. “Touch me,” he commanded, in that low, coarse tone of voice he always adopted when something Charles did excited him. His jade eyes glinted in the cool twilight filtering in through the window.

Charles moved to obey, but was stopped at once.

“No, not there,” Erik muttered, stalling Charles’ hand on his elbow. He guided it to rest on his hipbone instead. “Here.”

Charles frowned. There was nothing but the fine fabric of Erik’s trousers and his thrumming body heat underneath.

“I don’t understand,” he said, taking care not to harden his voice. Erik despised when he did that. “Darling, if you want me to pleasure you, I should probably tell you that we are expected back in a few minutes. We don’t have time for-”

Something in Erik’s gaze snapped. “ _Here_ ,” he breathed, all eager hands and warm flesh as he locked Charles’ fingers in a tight grip, led them under his linen shirt where-

Charles’ breath hitched.

Gingerly, he smoothed his palms flat up Erik’s sides.

“ _Christ_ ,” he breathed, almost moaned, suddenly all hot inside. “Is that a-?”

Erik preened under his burning gaze, not even taking care to lower his voice to an appropriate hush. “I had it custom-tailored to what I know are your preferences. Emma was nice enough to help me out with my choice last Tuesday.”

Charles couldn’t resist – wetting his lips, he pulled his hands away only for them to immediately start undoing the nacre buttons on Erik’s shirt. One by one, they gave way, until Charles could draw the fabric aside like a veil and marvel at the sight underneath. Erik let him.

The corset hugged his sleek sides perfectly, from the waist up to the pecs. Its shiny fabric glinted a subtle mauve in the moonlight, the lacing at the back pulled taut under Charles’ fingers.

He let his hand dip lower, to the small of Erik’s back, and pulled him close.

“For me?” he whispered, his chin pressed to the sharp jut of Erik’s hipbone. Surely he was wearing the expression of an utterly besotted fool, looking up at Erik with wide, demanding eyes, but right now, with his perfect darling breathing raggedly beneath his touch, he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

Erik had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. Even in the dim moonshine, Charles noticed the lovely blush high on his cheeks and the clenching of his hands on Charles’ shoulders.

“Something for you to think about during dinner,” Erik murmured.

“Oh, _you_ are a tease,” Charles chuckled as he brought Erik even closer, until the man had to buckle his knees and put them either side of Charles’ thighs, “and a terrible little sneak. Why, I should punish you for even _thinking_ you could get one over me.” He brought a hand up to cup the side of Erik’s face. “Well, what do you think?”

“I think-” Erik shuddered, visibly dismayed with how the corset kept him from arching into Charles’ touch at his back- “I think I should very much deserve to be punished.”

“Right answer. Now, off with this.” And under Charles’ fingers, the vest sailed to the floor, followed closely by Erik’s bowtie and shirt.

Then, Charles grasped the scruff of Erik’s neck and pulled him down for one long, bruising kiss. Erik went readily, though a little awkwardly – the corset clamped tightly around his waist, keeping him ever in a straight posture. Charles found he liked the little noise of distress escaping his darling as he realised that. He swallowed it right up, together with Erik’s groan as he gently nipped his lower lip.

They kissed and kissed, lips sliding against spit-slick lips, tongue against tongue, and Erik’s fingers started rubbing the tight coils of Charles’ shoulders. He always did that when he was so far gone that he forgot to control his impulses.

 _Gorgeous_ , murmured Charles in both their heads, _splendid, my darling, my love_ , and there his thoughts started to veer off towards how Erik would look in the morning light, dozing between the sheets and looking completely debauched after what unspeakable things Charles would do to him during the night. Erik on the mattress, and Charles slowly undressing him, setting aside every item of clothing like it was a relic until Erik would lay there, completely naked safe for the corset over a chemise pinching his waist into shape. Erik restrained in his movements as Charles cherished him with his hands, his mouth, showed him just how precious he was.

Erik. Erik, and the taste of Erik, and the warmth of his body and the sweetness of his sighs-

“No, no, stop.” Erik pulled back, panting heavily. “This isn’t fair.”

Charles cocked his eyebrow, incredulous. Erik’s thighs seemed to burn where he was resting his hands on them. “Not fair? Darling, I should remind you that you were the one who planned to rile me up all evening with the torturous thought of you wearing _this_.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?” A triumphant smile took hold of Erik’s lips. “You’re always telling me to be less blunt about my plans, and more cunning. I think I deserve a reward if anything.”

Pushing a heavy sigh, Charles buried his head at Erik’s chest. “I see that Emma is bad company for you,” he muttered. “I shall have a word with her over dinner.”

A hand cupping his jaw made him look up.

“Don’t drag her into this.” Erik was all earnestness now, his eyes burning as they locked with Charles’. “I did this for you, and only you. I want to be as perfect for you as is possible.”

When Charles drew Erik down for a kiss this time, it was all honey and warmth and gentleness.

 _Oh Erik, you already_ are _perfect for me._

Over dinner, Emma visibly had difficulty holding back the occasional grin.

Charles frowned at her from where he was keeping a heavy hand on Erik’s thigh under the table. _Well, have you had your fun yet?_

 _More than enough._ She shot a tell-tale glance over at where Erik - back in his dinner jacket and with his bow tie done up masterfully - was in deep conversation with Angel, his back held ever so straight. _He’s a sight, isn’t he? Sophie almost fainted with delight when she first got to put it on him and lace him up, and Celeste suggested we should just keep him and tell you he had eloped with the maid._

There was just time for Charles to hide his smirk behind the rim of his wineglass. _Indeed? I see your daughters are taking after you in all aspects of life._

 _They make me very proud_ , Emma confirmed before she changed the subject. _I trust you will take good care of him tonight._

Turning to request a refill from the servant, Erik caught Charles’ hungry gaze and smiled in oblivion of the conversation going on over his head. Charles squeezed the firm flesh of his thigh under the fabric of his slacks and watched Erik's pupils eat up the grey of his irises as they dilated in aroused anticipation.

 _The very best care, Emma_ , he purred, _the very best._

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed this :)


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